


Beat Rock Love: Rock On

by lucybeetle



Series: Beat Rock Love [1]
Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Crack, F/M, M/M, tokusatsuexchanges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybeetle/pseuds/lucybeetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. When Takeru wants to reform his old rock band, Makoto has one condition: the ex not being invited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat Rock Love: Rock On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guava/gifts).



> Written for the tokusatsuexchanges fanworks exchange on Tumblr. Note: I can't take credit for the AU or the song lyrics featured within, both of which were inspired by an old British Telecom ad.

“Oh, Makoto-nii-chan. We rocked,” said Tenkuuji Takeru.

“We were terrible,” said Makoto, whose career had thus far stayed out of the shadow of his inauspicious start in life. He wanted to keep it that way.

“Noooooo.”

Takeru was pouting now, and Makoto closed his eyes so that he couldn’t possibly be influenced. It had to be said that Takeru was still every bit as adorable as he’d been ten years ago. His face had captured the hearts of hundreds of teenage girls, and their mothers, who regularly tuned in to his TV series and web show as a celebrity chef (and they weren’t just watching for his recipes.) He could have had millions of girls in love with him, had his and Makoto’s only released single not reached #438 in the charts before dropping out the following week.

 “Come on, Makoto-nii-chan. You don’t even have to sing! Just be on TV with me,” said Takeru.

“Yeah, and then what do you think will happen? We’ll be asked to sing,” said Makoto.

 “What’s wrong with that? You’re a good singer. And we had a good song.”

“You seriously expect me to go onto national TV and perform that thing?”

“We did it before,” said Takeru. “It’s not like you’ll be on your own. I’ll be there, and so will …”

“You’re asking _him_?” said Makoto.

“Well, not yet, but I have to. They want us all to be there.”

“I’m not doing it,” said Makoto; and got up from the table.

The break-up of Makoto’s romance had not been the reason for the band also breaking up. That was a combination of their dismal failure in the charts, and the accompanying mockery on the internet. There had been so many arguments between them that he was feeling less and less enthusiastic about Takeru’s idea of recording some new material and trying again; and Makoto’s dreams of professional motorcycling had never quite died in the first place. When he’d woken up to find that Alan had vanished from their tiny apartment without leaving so much as a note, it was a suitably miserable end to a miserable time in Makoto’s life. Now, things were better, although he’d been embarrassed a few years ago when 2ch had dug up the music video and he’d become a meme for a while. He wasn’t sure why _he_ was the butt of the jokes. Their boring band name (ATM – Alan, Takeru, Makoto) had been Takeru’s idea, the unwise decision to release their single two weeks after a new Johnny’s act had debuted was down to their management, and the terrible lyrics were all Alan’s fault.

No, Makoto didn’t want to be involved in _any_ kind of reunion if Alan was going to be there.

***

“Makoto-nii-chan,” said Takeru as they sat in Starbucks two weeks later. “Alan’s going to be there.”

“Going to be where?” said Makoto. He was surprised for a moment, but then remembered to make sure to keep a straight face, “What difference does it make? I don’t care about him.”

“To our reunion! He’s going to be on TV with us.”

“ _You_. Not _us_. I said, I’m not doing it. You never listen to me.”

Takeru sighed. “Being in ATM meant a lot to me. To you, too. I know it did.”

“It’s over. I have moved on,” said Makoto.

“He asked about you, you know,” said Takeru.

“Will you shut up! I said. I don’t care about Alan.”

Takeru looked hurt, and Makoto felt guilty for upsetting his old friend. He wanted to give in and say that of course he’d do it for Takeru; what was one night of public humiliation and possible repercussions on his motorcycling career? But he wanted nothing to do with Alan.

He’d finished his coffee (black, no cream, no sugar) and was about to leave when Takeru waved at someone Makoto couldn’t see, and excitedly stood up to greet them. Makoto’s heart plummeted as a familiar, beautiful face came through the doorway.

Makoto turned on Takeru at once, “You invited him here?”

“No, I didn’t! I promise!”

“Then how did he know where we were?” Makoto demanded.

“I posted my location on Swarm! Look!” Takeru held up his phone. Sure enough, he had just announced to the whole world via social media exactly which branch of Starbucks he happened to be sitting in.

Makoto wanted to smack Takeru, or yell at him about not posting personally identifying information online, or simply hide until Alan went away. But Alan wasn’t going away. He approached their table with a casual wave, “Hello, Tenkuuji Takeru. Hello, Specter.”

 _Specter_. Makoto cringed at the nickname; he hadn’t heard it since the day Alan left. No one called him that any more. It was an old internet handle he’d used back during his emo-teen phase, but for some reason Alan liked it and insisted on using it instead of Makoto’s name. It was weird, just like how Alan insisted on addressing Takeru by his full name every single time. Everything about Alan was weird.

“Makoto-nii-chan and I were just talking about how amazing the reunion is going to be!” said Takeru, smiling at Alan with a beatific glow, as if the pair of them hadn’t just brought Makoto’s world crashing down around him.

“No, I didn’t say that. I said I’m not going. You ignored me,” said Makoto.

“You must attend the reunion. It’s very important to Tenkuuji Takeru,” said Alan.

Makoto stood up, “You really think I’m gonna go on TV with you after everything you did? And perform the stupid lyrics you wrote? You’re still as annoying as ever.”

“And you, Specter, are still as ungrateful,” said Alan.

“That’s enough!” Takeru moved in between the two to separate them, “This was supposed to be a nice thing. A TV crew asked me to do it and I said yes because I thought it would be fun to sing with my friends again! I thought _you_ would enjoy it too, but all you do is yell at each other – or me!” His hands clenched into little fists.

Alan put his hand on Takeru’s shoulder, “Please calm down. It will work out. Perhaps Specter and I should try to resolve our differences in private so that we can all enjoy the reunion.”

“Forget it. I’m not talking to you –”

All Takeru had to do to shut Makoto up was to look directly at him. Takeru was small and cute, and gave wonderful hugs, and was generally all-around lovable. All the same, having been friends with him all their lives Makoto knew better than to cross him when Takeru was in a bad mood.

“Excellent,” said Alan, “I will meet you this evening. Please text me your number.”

***

Alan was still very rich. That much was apparent from the way he dressed, and from the menu at the classy little sushi bar where he’d requested to meet Makoto. Of course, he’d chosen an expensive place on purpose. Even when they were dating, Makoto had always insisted on paying his own way because he didn’t want to be in debt to Alan. If he stuck to one drink he should still be able to make his rent payment – just.

“Good evening, Specter,” said Alan, as he took his seat opposite Makoto.

“I told you. Stop calling me that.”

Alan gave a tiny little pout, something that Makoto had always found cute. Well, he wasn’t going to let it have any effect on him now.

“How is your sister?” asked Alan.

“She’s fine.” Kanon had always adored Alan. She had been living with them at the time they dated, and when she learned that he had moved out, she’d been just as devastated as Makoto was, “And how are your family?”

“They are well,” said Alan, and launched into a description of how his father’s greedy corporate behemoth had just swallowed up another independent business. Makoto hadn't seen Alan's father since before he and Alan broke up; and from Alan's descriptions, wasn't too keen to meet him again.

A waitress came by to take their drinks order. Alan ordered two fruity cocktails with umbrellas, and Makoto’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t possibly be seen to drink something like that in public. Just when he was about to make his feelings of indignation very strongly known, Alan turned to him and said “… and what would _you_ like?”

Makoto, mollified, ordered some tea. It was the least expensive menu option and he stood a much better chance of surviving the evening if he didn’t drink any alcohol.

Alan took a sip of one of his cocktails, and put the little umbrella behind his ear. It looked ridiculous. Just as Makoto was about to tell him to remove the umbrella, Alan looked at him and said “Specter. You must attend the reunion. Tenkuuji Takeru is counting on you.”

“Don’t call me –” Makoto sighed and decided to drop it.  He had a bigger issue to address, “Either I perform with Takeru, or you can do it. I’m not going to appear on TV with you.”

“You’re being very childish, you know,” said Alan.

“ _I’m_ being childish?” Makoto wanted to add _at least I haven’t got a cocktail umbrella behind my ear,_ but felt that would be rather proving Alan’s point, “I don’t want anything to do with you. You walked out on me.”

“I left because you told me I had ruined your life and you never wanted to see me again.”

Makoto closed his eyes, “Yeah, I did say that, but you could have at least left me a note. Or a text message.”

“Why? You had already told me to go,” said Alan. Alan, who had never paid attention to anything Makoto said. Makoto knew that, and he’d known it when he told Alan to get out; so why did Alan have to choose that one time to listen?

“I don’t want to do it anyway. The song is terrible.”

“Perhaps if you had put any work into it you would have had more creative control,” said Alan. He now had a little cocktail ‘moustache’ on his top lip, and Makoto wanted to yell at him for it, “Takeru wrote the melody and I wrote the lyrics. What did _you_ do?”

“I played the bass guitar. And I wanted to write the lyrics. You wouldn’t let me,” said Makoto.

“Your lyrics were aimed at middle-schoolers going through an ‘emo’ phase. My lyrics were designed to appeal to as broad an audience as possible,” said Alan. He wiped his lips delicately with a napkin and reached for the menu, “The waitress will return soon. Please choose what you would like to order.”

“Broad audience?! It’s supposed to be a love song. You made it sound like a declaration of war!”

“The sashimi here is exceptionally fresh,” said Alan. No, he hadn’t changed a bit in ten years. So why was Makoto beginning to wish they hadn’t spent that time apart?

When the waitress arrived, Makoto ordered a beer. He rather got the feeling he was going to need it.

***

“How are you getting home?” said Alan.

“On my bike, obviously.”

“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink. You will probably be stopped by the police, if you’re lucky. There are usually traffic cops stationed around that corner,” Alan gestured. “Or else you’ll have a terrible accident and potentially spend the rest of your life in hospital … if you’re not killed outright.”

Makoto cringed. Maybe he hadn’t missed Alan so much after all, “I’ve had one beer. I’m not exactly raving drunk,” he said.

“So, you’ll come in my car?” said Alan.

“No.”

“Very well. We’ll walk. Where do you live?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. You don’t have to walk me home. We’re not twelve,” said Makoto.

“If I must go home on my own, I must,” said Alan.

“Maybe you should worry less about me and more about writing lyrics that don’t suck.”

“You can hardly call it my fault. I wrote that song with you in mind, after all. Because I love you,” said Alan. “Goodnight, Specter.”

He reached out his hand and Makoto, after a moment’s hesitation, took it.

“Shall I tell Takeru that you will take part in the reunion?”

Makoto shook his head, “No … No, I’ll tell him.”

“Splendid.” Alan gave the soft, warm smile that Makoto had fallen in love with all those years ago, “Of course, we could always have coffee somewhere before we go back.”

“I want to go home,” said Makoto, and he squeezed Alan’s fingers.

***

_“I’m gonna pull down your defences, tear you apart. My laser-guided love beam’s headed straight for your heart!”_

Makoto knew that after this, he could never go back to motorcycling and expect to be taken seriously. Right at this very moment, he didn’t care. He was on stage with his best friend and on-again-off-again-apparently-on-at-the-moment-but-who-really-knew life partner, and he was having a pretty good time.

The audience applauded politely, which was more than they’d done the last time ATM had performed this song on national TV.

“That was _wild_ ,” said Takeru, when they went backstage, “I should use it as the background music for the next episode of my web show! The fans would love that.”

“No need. My father has already taken control of our management. He has plans for us to release a Greatest Hits compilation in time for summer,” said Alan.

Make that ‘off again’, Makoto decided.

Maybe.


End file.
